


curse these metal hands

by okayantigone



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Gen, Killua is an assassin, hunter chairman election arc, post chimera ant arc
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-01
Updated: 2019-08-01
Packaged: 2020-07-28 13:10:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20064574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/okayantigone/pseuds/okayantigone
Summary: killua sits in the hallway in front of gon’s hospital room, eyes closed, leaning his head back on the cool gray wall, praying for a miracle.





	curse these metal hands

**Author's Note:**

> wrote this on the plane in my notes app  
as always pariston nen inspired by crownsandbirds' pariging magnum opus

killua sits in the hallway in front of gon’s hospital room, eyes closed, leaning his head back on the cool gray wall, praying for a miracle.  
he finds himself praying for a miracle a lot these days, because of gon. it never used to be like this. he was never the prayer kind. he grew up on kikyou’s gutter superstition, and his father and grandfather’s performance of tradition, but he never prayed. not like this, now, feeling for the first time small and alone and waiting for something to happen, to justify this whole mess.  
nanika is a miracle. kikyou had prayed for a girl, his father said, one time, in a bout of rare sentimentality.  
killua had been feverish, after puking his guts out during training, and his father had picked him up and carried him to bed.  
he’d been angry about alluka- that’s what killua remembers. he’d said something about it and silva had forgotten to hold back, and sent him sprawling across the room and through a wall. and he’d been oh so sorry after. kikyou had prayed for a girl, every day and night while she was pregnant, eaten all the right things and lit all the candles and worn only purple, and cut off her hair and buried it under a rose. alluka had been their miracle. nanika had been the price for it.  
and if the miracle of alluka didn’t work... killua didn’t know what he was going to do. there was no fixing gon. there was no fixing him. he felt in that moment that same hopeless impotent rage that had inhabited his father on that day. he wanted to punch the walls and scream. he didn’t.  
instead, he sat in front of gon’s hospital room and waited, and prayed.  
his eyes were closed, but he sensed through his lids the light of the fluorescent lamps overhead and felt when they flickered. he felt the sickly disgusting cloying feeling of the man’s nen, before he heard the steps of his expensive leather shoes down the cheap hospital linoleum. he opened his eyes slowly, lazily.  
pariston hill was wearing a deep violet suit, and a paisley tie.  
“‘sup,” killua greeted lazily, and hopped off his seat, stuffing his hands in his pockets.  
pariston regarded him, head cocked to the side.  
“not much,” he acknowledged at last, shrugging. “i’m visiting gon. you?”  
that’s what killua liked about pariston. he didn’t coddle him and treat him like a kid, but he wasn’t scared of him either. they both knew exactly what to expect of each other, the way predators in the wild often did.  
“yeah, me too,” he said vaguely.  
pariston nodded. “you a friend of his?”  
there was genuine curiosity in his voice, but the question itself was neutral. killua felt safe in answering “i am, yeah.”  
pariston modded thoughtfully and said “that’s nice.”  
sometimes killua thought pariston was even less of a person than illumi. just infinitely better at hiding it.  
he made no move to go into god’s room. just stood awkwardly on the hallway, his long limbs tucked around his body, his loud purple paisley print suit the brightest thing about any of this.  
“you know this wouldn’t be an issue if you’d just let me get rid of ging that one time,” killua said at last.  
pariston startled and unfurled, pulling his hands out f his pockets.  
“yeah,” he said, and smiled. his smile was emptier than illumi’s head. “a lot of things wouldn’t be an issue if i had.”  
“too bad you’re in love with him,” killua said. he was angry. gon was sick and he wasn’t getting better and everything was wasted, and he felt the need to hurt. to his credit pariston just shrugged and said “you’re twelve. you wouldn’t know real love if it sucker punched you right in the smart mouth.”  
killua stick his tongue out at him.  
“i don’t know why you’re not angrier,” he said. “he’s your son too, isn’t he?”  
killua may not be able to know love, but he did know pariston, when he backhanded him across the face. the only reason the hit landed was that killua hadn’t expected it. pariston always seemed somehow... beyond physical violence.  
he felt dread pooling at the bottom of his stomach. he couldn’t breathe, something heavy was pressing down on his throat, he felt like he was being waterboarded with syrup.  
“don’t you ever say that again,” pariston said. his voice echoed in killua’s skull like earrings going down a garbage disposal. “not even as a joke, do you understand me? never.”  
killua manages to nod and the pressure disappeared. pariston was smiling pleasantly down at him.  
“i’ve changed my mind,” he said. “i won’t be visiting gon after all. it would have just been a waste of my time if he dies.”  
killua is relearning to breathe to the tune of pariston’s retreating footsteps.  
in the other room, gon sleeps.


End file.
